


A Living Silence

by Yubari (aquila_black)



Category: Loveless
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquila_black/pseuds/Yubari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in response to a kink meme prompt, but never posted. Just about everyone who writes Soubi has done a "lost his ears to Ritsu" fic. This one isn't headcanon, for me, it just occurred to me in vivid detail one day and ended up on paper, so I thought I'd put it up where other people can read. It's a little ... different, in terms of the emotional content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Living Silence

Soubi clenched his teeth the first time Ritsu pushed into him. It was the only concession he made to the part of himself that was still wild-eyed and scared where his Sensei was concerned; the childish scrap of soul that had hated the man ever since they first crossed paths, that day in the hospital, between the mangled corpses of Soubi’s parents.

Soubi refused to acknowledge that it still existed, or that it ever had. As long as it existed, he was imperfect, reduced to a state of humiliating ambivalence when Ritsu commanded him; if only within the deepest, most inaccessible recesses of himself. The imperceptible tension in his unfailingly pliant mouth was the only sign that, even now, obedience did not necessarily imply consent.

It was completely invisible. To everyone but Soubi, it didn’t exist. And yet, it took all his will to dissipate.

Ritsu, for his part, probably wouldn’t have cared. At thirteen, Soubi was already too far gone to want anything, beyond what he was given. The faint, dying echo of something he didn’t want was of no consequence to either of them. It was completely irrelevant.

But for some reason, this act was eliciting panic from the last vestiges of his tattered sense of self. It was making his heartbeat quicken as if he were trying to run. Soubi panted quietly, caught between the uncompromising heat above him and the equally unyielding desk below. What was left of his rational mind, mired in a thick fog of strong emotions, was grateful he was pinned down.

From a purely objective standpoint, it was uncomfortable. But Soubi was anything but objective. And being physically restrained made it easier to let his turmoil drain into a helpless sort of calm.

Ritsu was here, close, touching him, and Soubi wanted nothing. He wanted this. He … wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was. It didn’t hurt, exactly. It wasn’t discipline, precisely. But his insides didn’t know what to do with … and it felt strange. He knew better than to tense, squirm, or ask questions. If there was something he needed to do, Ritsu would instruct him. It seemed that all that was required of him, for now, was an open stance and quiet acceptance.

Soubi felt suspended in time, struggling to maintain his composure, as nakedness and inexperience threatened to put a self-conscious flush on his pale cheeks. He concentrated on the part of himself that lived from moment to moment, struggling to embody it. In the still, endless Now, he was exactly what he should be. He could withstand anything, indefinitely, because he wasn’t confronting its permanence. ~~Or his fear~~. The worst pain in the world wouldn’t break him, if he could keep his focus. Unthinking presence was the natural state of a fighter. Attentive. ~~Inert~~. At peace.

But he was having trouble maintaining it.

A part of him exulted in the feel of Ritsu’s hands on his skin. ~~And a part of him was recoiling with all its strength~~ and it was just. Too. Much. Ritsu was making the blood sing in his veins. Ritsu was making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and all with a knowing, deliberate touch that Soubi wanted to lean into ~~flinch away from~~ lay under forevermore.

None of which mattered.

Ritsu moved, and Soubi’s focus narrowed. He closed unseeing eyes to concentrate on the feel of his Sensei. It made him aware of his body in a way that he usually wasn’t. In a way that was somehow more threatening because it wasn’t pain. He wanted nothing. He wanted whatever his master saw fit to give him. He was grateful. But it was hard to be still when excitement racked his insides this way. With newness. With closeness. ~~With fear~~.

Soubi had never actually … and Ritsu was long and hard and using him in a way that fused them together. The sensation was still decidedly strange, but the mere thought was enough to make Soubi hard. This act was beyond his –never had he –and it moved him. But he wasn’t supposed to react. Ritsu was guiding him through a new experience; something he needed to get accustomed to, and his agitation was only getting in the way. So he focused on his Sacrifice. His Sensei. His Sacrifice. His … Sensei. Was it inappropriate if the two ran together in his mind? Was it disrespectful?

Ritsu had said, “You’re a graceful creature, Soubi. At some point, your sacrifice will want to touch you.” He’d regarded the still, silken fur of the boy’s tail as if he were making a decision. Ritsu did that, from time to time, but somehow Soubi sensed that this time, his Sensei had come to the opposite conclusion. There was an extra millisecond of contemplation; coupled with some subtle insight that Ritsu didn’t choose to share with him.

This felt like having one chain removed and replaced with another. He couldn’t think of that directly, though. It would make it almost impossible not to quiver, and that was already proving to be difficult enough. Instead, he concentrated on slow, deep thrusts, and the air currents moving past his face and ears.

Back when he was little and willful, Soubi’s ears, and his tail, had been truthful in a way that the rest of him wasn’t. But they’d dealt with that long ago. Ritsu made him understand that … Soubi caught himself mid-thought, intuitively realizing that the memory of pain would throw off his precarious balance. It would make him feel, and that was dangerous. ~~For him~~. For his Sacrifice. It would be a mistake, and he knew better.

Particularly when Ritsu condescended to sweep his student's golden hair aside, with a single, achingly poised gesture, to make his face visible.

He was thirteen, and as his lips parted slightly, Ritsu went from holding his hips, and pumping in and out with a certain controlled detachment, to wrapping both arms around Soubi’s thin torso and slamming him brutally into the desk. There was pain, _finally_ , sharp and cruel and intimate. There was bitterness and despair and searing anger coming off his Sensei in rolling blasts. Like a heartbeat. Like the broken rhythm of being pushed repeatedly, face-first, into a hard surface; and lifted, repeatedly, against the one source of hope, warmth, attention, and meaning in his life.

Soubi trusted blindly. He relaxed into the pain and focused on ~~its source~~ , his Sensei. When he was in enough pain, he didn’t have to feel; didn’t have to doubt himself. Pain turned him into what he should be, when he couldn’t do it by himself. It made him a living … thing. A perfect thing; bleeding and alert and alive and as close to sane as Soubi ever got.

He knew what he was when he hurt like this. He was nothing more and nothing less than Ritsu’s possession. [[ ~~And the voice that said otherwise~~ finally went silent, for the last time.]]

Beads of sweat stood out on Soubi’s face as he stifled a gasp. His Sensei’s face was set in an expression of determination and hatred. It was ownership and control and a furious, aching grief that Soubi didn’t understand. But the past was ash. Soubi lived for him.

And Ritsu knew it.


End file.
